Community

It was the kind of place people called a second home, the kind of place you might sit down to have a meal alone and feel perfectly comfortable. Restaurant Diana, one of a dying breed of family-run restaurants in Quebec City’s downtown, plans to close its doors for good this Saturday, after serving the community in St. Jean Baptiste for 63 years.

The 78th Fraser Highlanders lead Billy Carol Gallichon’s horse-drawn hearse and a procession of calèches toward the Château Frontenac, where a moment of silence was observed for the long-time calèche driver, who died last week at 81. Fellow drivers Jerry Dionne and Brian Turpin attended their friend’s funeral procession.

The Holland School Governing Board is currently seeking a community member for the 2008-2009 school year. If you are interested in providing a helping hand to the board, please contact the school for more details at 418-681-7705 ext. 233 or via e-mail at [email protected]

The CWL of Shannon will hold a community breakfast from 9 A.M. to 12 P.M. at the Shannon Community Center, 75 Gosford, Shannon. The price is $6.00 for adultes, $4.00 for children from 6 to 12 and free for children under 5.

Throughout the centuries there were men who took first steps, down new roads, armed with nothing but their own vision. ~Ayn Rand

Have you ever noticed how often life seems to be stitched together by the coincidence of synchronous events, where everything you read, every person you encounter, every indiscriminate thought you imagine all point to the obvious and often random conclusion? Please let me explain.

Renowned calèche driver Billy Carol Gallichon passed away at St. Brigid’s Home at the age of 81.
Danny Doyle, friend and fellow driver, spoke of Gallishon’s dedication during his 46 years on the job. “Billy was a legend. He worked seven days a week. It wasn’t work for him, it was a pleasure.”

It’s a handsome Québécois farmhouse and it stands beside what was once called the King’s Highway. It has been part of my life since its heyday as the nerve centre of a thriving farm. It was there that, starting at about age 10, I got my first taste of farm life: gingerly scattering handfuls of grain for the chickens clustered by my feet.